


Dancing Stars, Ashened Sky

by Bloodbone



Series: Comoran Tales [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Casualties, Disabilities, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/F, Fantasy, Fluff, Gore, Gray Morals, I'm Aroace What is Sex, I'm Sorry for the Pain You are Going to Have, LGBTQIA+, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Magical Artifacts, Magical Realism, Magical Tattoos, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Nonbinary Character(s), Original Character(s), Other, Shadow Plane, Shapeshifting, Smut, This Shit is Really Dark Damn, Trans Characters, War, everyone is bad, nobody is good, nobody is innocent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodbone/pseuds/Bloodbone
Summary: The planet Comoran was not the most unusual one you can find. It did, however, had a very unusual start; once, two oval shaped planets, one just cooling from its creation, the other still mid process. As the new fledgling planet started circling into a more regular orbit around it's sun, it collided with the other, still forming, planet, thus merging them into one (after a few hundred years of course). The planet Comoran was created from this collision, massive oceans separating the two merged, smaller, planets. This is the story of this planet.





	Dancing Stars, Ashened Sky

**Author's Note:**

> This is a world that sat in my head for 13 years now, and I wish to let it come to light. I don't have beta readers yet, and I gladly will be accepting any who wants to be my beta reader.  
> As for the story: it is a complicated story about complicated situations, and about the human price of the war, as well as random rallying cry for activism. I dunno. I just know I grew up with the noise of bomb sirens and the knowledge my friends can die at any moment because of a random occurrence that didn't even concern them, and the huge amounts of hate and racism that is everywhere. War is shitty, really shitty, and we are not even the ones who suffer the most - nope, its the poor shits who had the unfortunate turn of events to be chess pieces at hands of corrupt and abusive authority figures. And honestly, I'm fucking tired of it. So here, take a little story from an Israeli leftists who just want the war to stop and everybody to have a life and acknowledge that nobody is completely good or evil. We are just fucked up humans.   
> Trigger warning for the prologue: emotional manipulation and hinting at abuse of children. Also a little bit of mild gore and mentions of war going on. yeah.. that gonna be a theme for the whole story. Please practice self care during, before and after the reading if you feel bad or down. Take care of yourself.

All they could thing of is that her lips tasted of ash. It didn't really matter; everything tasted of ash now, when every breath stirred petals of ashen, burning flakes. Fire never cared what you were, who you were - the fire burned everything without caring. Even water tasted of ash and depression. They made a face, and their partner pulled away, making a face at them. "Shadows fucking in trees Falker, stop thinking about it." she rolled her eyes at her partner, who looked like they were attending a funeral, and not about to fuck senselessly after eating the most filling meal they had in weeks. "The war will keep going on wherever we like it or not. We should at least enjoy our time, yeah?"

"I can't! My stupid family is pressing me to enlist, saying their **son** ", the young jinnel sounded so grim, looked so sad and hunched down into themselves, "must at least represent the house. That if I'm so worried about you, Father", they almost spit the title in disgust, "can organize that if we enlist together, I will be your squad's medic." He didn't seem happy about it. "Fuck. I'm sorry about your stupid parents. Um... do you want a hug?" Falker nodded and cuddled up to her, shaking.

"I can't do it anymore. I have so many patients from this stupid war, we are not even a part of the stupid Empire, they fucking raid us! We are their fucking slaves, a little bit above microborts and the red-eyes, and I refuse to go and treat their-their-those are not even soldiers, this is a gaggle of uncivilized, uncultured, blood purists swines that just do whatever they want!" they were shaking now, but keeping their voiced hushed, knowing fully well that here, in the walls of their house, they were soldiers stationed, listening to every possible threat to their reign. "I know love, I know," she hummed, stroking their scalp and hugging them tightly. They were both awfully thin, even with Falker's family standing, the Empire sacked their warehouses with barely enough left in the town; and a soldier's salary was impressive, it will be enough to sustain them, but the cost of their ethics, their morality, what it would do to them, both of them, sucking them dry and lifeless, soulless husks with no cares left aside or empathy for fellow sentient lives... it clawed her stomach with sharp, cold icicles of fear and disgust. Once, if she would have been younger and foolish, she may have considered it, but not anymore. Now all she could do was help, survive, and try to find a way for both of them to get out. One day maybe, they could escape this damn war.

 

* * *

 

The young red-eye secretary bowed to the older House Servant, gathering the notes on the meeting. "My Lady, do you think they will really release the new prisoners?" her red tattoos were square and articulate, recognizing her as part of the Educators caste - scribes, teachers, researchers, scientists, philosophers, physicians, any who their blood and mind are strong enough to indulge in rigorous or even monotonous, incredible tasks involving the mind. The House Servant own tattoos resembled intricate, bloody flames, signifying her of the prestigious ruling class. "Of course my dear. After all, there is only so much prisoners can do while inside cages - they turn to burden on our fair society, and our people, that suffered by the enemy's hands, don't need to suffer further by  providing for those selfish monsters without getting anything in return." She was calm as she spoke, her face the perfect mask of serenity, sympathy and sadness, and the secretary felt a twinge of guilt in her heart. Of course, how could she thought the Servants of the House will do anything against the good intention of their people. She was glad she didn't have to face those challenges - it was surely awful to her Lady to must make those choices, always thinking what could go wrong and how can she serve her people best. "Of course my Lady. I shudder to think I ever doubted in the Servants!" she exclaimed, almost appalled by her thoughts. The older woman nodded as she organized her desk, stacking parchments and scrolls neatly in their places. They had servants for that, but her Lady never really wanted them touching her tools of ruling, even if they never meant any harm; they simply never could get the organization system right. She wasn't jealous of those poor souls either - serving a debt or being borne to such servitude never were quite that appealing. At the permission of her Lady, she tiptoed out of the office, closing the door quietly after her. Her mind raced in million directions, but soon a voice pulled her out of the thoughts. Servants wouldn't bother her, unless it was for urgent matters, she would never meet the staff in person... and besides, those voices were muffled, and sounded like somebody was shouting, or at the very least, fiercely scolding someone. Straightening her back, she walked firmly towards the source of the voices, radiating authority. She was second only to the priests and rulers castes, and damn well she would make sure nobody shall behave as such in the house of **her** Lady. Nearing the corner, she paused, confused by what she had just heard. "N-no! P-please, s-sir, I-I o-o-only a-ar-rived y-yest-" the stuttering was abruptly stopped, thanks the Shadows, by a slap. The crying sounded like a young one, probably a new servant. "You bumbling fool! You belong to the Lady, and to her you will belong until **she** releases you! **You** and **your family** wasted your money and yourself away, and now, after all was decided and the Lady agreed to generously take you as servant as payment, you decide to start and being ungrateful! Do you want me to tell the Lady that? huh?! DO YOU?!" well, she couldn't argue it was the truth in matters of servitude, and they did needed to be reigned in and do their job, but scolding a mere **child** like that would not do to teach them much. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward around the corner, a shining beacon of power and authority, and surveyed the scene in front of her. A young red-eye, only about 10 years old, with the traditional rectangular tattoos of the Sea caste, cried and stuttered, sniffling and shuffling their legs, a broken intricate vase between the child and the supervisor; as they saw her, both of them jumped in surprise and bowed, one out of respect and out of sheer terror.  
"I see my Lady has took in another stray. She sure tend to accumulate those lately." she remarked, her face rather blank. That was one of her designated duties as Educator, to intervene and educate the clueless, as well as calm down petty disputes, on top  of being the scholar, secret keeper and secretary the Lady needed her to be. "I do recommend not scolding children in this manner, although physical reinforcements were shown to be quit good at accomplishing jobs quickly, they are hardly the means in which you can educate clueless children. Instead, you should try to be calm; you would be surprised how often the servants would listen to you. As for you, boy." She looked the young one, almost disappointed. "You should learn to listen to your betters. You are only of the Sea, and in here, you reside in one of the houses of the Great Servants of the Houses. Do try to not be a complete failure, or you shall find your resident her very short. Now, do clean that mess dear. It was one of the nice vases, but it cluttered the place something fierce." With that she continued, satisfied with her lecture. Two people were taught - better than her usual count, which stood on about zero per day. It was a fine thing, being surrounded by such enlightened people, but oh, how she missed teaching and helping with betterment for the Clueless. She continued down her path, as she liked to think as her legs roamed in the familiar reaches of the house, as she pondered the things she learned that day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Yo! Captain!" the young microbort grinned, literally hopping down from her station up in the trees, the Shadows licking at her as the Shade hummed in excitement. ".... Whatever you just did, Holy, I really dont wanna be part of it. I don't need Ermil chasing me down covered in bees again. And you should hide your Shadows - what if I was held captive by those gray jinnel monsters, about to be tortured senselessly and eaten, or being forced to lure you in so those creeps will have another Shade to toy around with?" the older man scolded as the young Carrier visibly deflated and huffed. "I would **obviously** would sense that and beat them up and save you!" she declared, smiling as she planted her spear in the ground. Holy was... young. Naive. He really couldn't understand how the Carrier Shanser did it; for Shadows' sake, they had to watch their loved ones cutting out their arms and leaving them to bleed on the ground, just as it were for the creator of the tribe, in order to become a Shade. It was all very gruesome and made him glad that even though he was Carrier, he was born to the Kolto tribe, although the ritual had to be completely consensual in order to work. Shadows feasted on such energies, and they had to be completely genuine in order for the ritual to work. The Shades were a powerful weapon, sure, but this.... bloodshed that they cherished gleefully, as the Shadows took away their personality and thoughts in any moment of weakness, was completely jarring. He was happy he only needed to guard one, and in a place that was the most boring village he could ever imagine, and that one was practically his daughter in any shape and form aside from blood and tribe relations. A sudden smack to the head stopped his brooding. "No! Brooding!" his niece exclaimed, smacking him with her spear again for a good measure. "It's bad enough Ermil worries enough for both of you, even though you are not bound yet - dunno why, you are fucking perfect for each other - and my mate is brooding in their tent! I do not allow such brooding on the outpost!" she exclaimed again and returned to hop back to her post, using the Shadows to boost her jump, hooping like a frog from tree to tree. Weird girl, but she was one of the brightest points in all of that bloody, awefull war - which they were trapped in the middle of, no less.

 

* * *

 

 

War is a strange thing. It consumes all that in it's wake. leaving behind only shattered dreams and burned hopes. But sometimes, in the ash, int he aftermath of it all... you can find wonderful things. Every scavenger will tell you that.

But stranger than the war, are the people initiating, or participating, in it. After all, war is one of the thing that is greater than the sum of it's parts.

**Author's Note:**

> The characters and I don't hold the same views; some characters think slavery is ok, some think its bad. I view slavery, abuse, war, manipulation, racism and such as inherently bad and not stuff you should have. Some of my characters will have opposing views to mine. Hell, I'm writing literal fascism and Nazism later in the story which I hate and condemn in any way possible. I'm not my characters and I try to show that they are wrong in their views if they have bad shit they think is ok. Please try and remember that, you are free to hate the characters.


End file.
